


Pain

by ibelieveinsherlockholmes2014



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guns, Hospitals, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:16:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinsherlockholmes2014/pseuds/ibelieveinsherlockholmes2014
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets hurt <br/> And things happen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the first time in Sherlock's life he was afraid. Well at least without drugs being involved. The pistol was pointed at John and the man behind the gun was delirious.

"Calm down. I don't want to hurt you," John said.

"You hurt me? No one will ever hurt me again! You or this man," he pointed the gun at Sherlock "or anyone will never hurt me," the man said.

Sherlock studied the man. He was short with brown hair. His brown eyes were full of fear. his wide eyes told Sherlock that he was new at being a criminal. He didn't want to kill but his hands weren't shaking so that meant that he would kill if threatened.

"Look we can help you. Please, Interpol will be here..." John said.

"You called the police!" the man said. This was his final assault.

At the last second, the man brought the gun around and pulled the trigger. A searing pain went through his leg. Sherlock fell to the ground and clutched his leg. He saw the man run, but John ran to him.

"Go get him, I am fine . Just a scratch," Sherlock groaned. Stop showing emotions, he thought.

" Sherlock your delirious. It went straight through you thigh. We need to get you to the hospital," John explained.

"We?"

" Yes. Interpol just showed up. Lestrade is going to give us a ride."

"I'm fine." Sherlock said. Even though all he complaining they got him into the car.

An hour later he was out of surgery. The doctor tried to give him morphine, but Sherlock refused. He also refused any source of food they tried to give him. The nurse ushered in John, who promptly laughed at Sherlock in his hospital gown. Sherlock immediately scowled in protest. Not a moment later a doctor walked though the door.

"Sherlock, I see you haven't been taking the morphine . And your not answering the nurse's. Are you in pain?" the doctor asked

" I am great. Fine. Fantastic. Now can I go?" Sherlock asked the doctor. Just the sight of the cast on repulsed him.

" Almost. Um, well you need to keep your leg elevated and use those crutches I prescribed. Get lots of rest and don't do anything that might break you bone again," the doctor ordered.

"Your wife's cheating on you with Dr. Howard. And your dog is going to have a baby," Sherlock immediately said to the doctor.

"Don't mind him, he is always like this" John gave Sherlock an angry look. Sherlock mouthed what? but John just rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Mr. Watson," the doctor said. John stood up a little taller in recognition of his last name. Sherlock wished he could stand.

Sherlock stubbornly looked out the window of the cab. The stupid cast was large and bulky. He hated it. He knew John would make a big deal about it. All Sherlock wanted to do was go to his mind palace. The only place he felt sane. Why did this have happen to him? Everyone knew John was the one who always got hurt. Sherlock was to smart. Or so he thought.

The cab stopped, pulling Sherlock out of his haze. Sherlock went for his wallet, but John thrust the money instead. Sherlock tried to grab the crutches, but John took them.

Very funny, now give them back" Sherlock said angrily .

John ignored him and walked around the car. He helped Sherlock out of the cab. He didn't leave him alone till Sherlock was in his own bed. Sherlock had to insist he was fine in order for him to leave.

Sherlock huffed and picked his crutches back up and walked over down the stairs and to the couch. He immediately went to his mind palace. He searched everywhere for the man he'd seen. The only thing he'd come up with was an old news article about his wife dying when a drunk driver hit them.

He was suddenly woken from his palace when some one touched his cast they moved it upward despite his thoughts not too, he cried out. He looked and saw John frustrated. hew put Sherlock's leg down onto a pillow.

"Are you doing well, Sherlock, and don't say you are because I know you" John asked.

John seemed to realize Sherlock was ignoring him. Anger swelled in him. He hit Sherlock square in the nose.

"Are you insane?" Sherlock asked.

"Tell me the truth!" John yelled.

The phone rang interrupting their fight. Sherlock grabbed the phone and saw the caller I.D .Sherlock smiled when he read it, it was Lestrade.

"What is it ? Is it a murder? Do you need me at the crime scene? Do I need my microscope?" Sherlock asked.

"Um, Yes. Yes, and no." Lestrade said.

"Great."

Sherlock jumped up and immediately regretted it. He fell onto the couch and muttered curses. John said he wasn't coming. When the pain finally stopped. Sherlock turned on him

"What is bloody wrong with you. I am bloody able to go to a crime scene" Sherlock realized he was yelling.

"You need to stop acting like you aren't hurt. News flash you are! Now stop and act grown up" John said.

Sherlock refused to speak for 10 minutes. Until his head fell to his hands. He started to speak.

"I don't like to be hurt. It's unnatural. How do you cope?" Sherlock asked.

"I just try to forget. I also use pain killers so that might help" John replied.

"Sorry" Sherlock mumbled.

"Wow a confession. And was that an apology?" John mussed.

"Now why would I do a thing like that." Sherlock turned around. Then he smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock smiling? This was new for John. Things changed dramatically for Sherlock. A whole different kind of behavior sprouted from him. Sherlock started eating and making food( Even though it wasn't very good). He even stopped saying he was fine. He would tell him if he needed something or if he had to go somewhere.

As much as this should have reassured him, John was still curious about the sudden change of character. Why change now? Was he hiding something? And if he was, what exactly was it?

John thought these things as he walked to his flat. And to his surprise he heard moaning. It was coming from Sherlock's flat. John hadn't realized how much pain Sherlock had been in till now. Then John devised a plan. He would crush pain killers into tiny bits and mix them into the sugar. John didn't take sugar in his coffee so he would be fine.

He immediately went to the store and did his plan. That morning Sherlock made his coffee with sugar. John smiled at his success. In an hour he could already see a difference. Sherlock seemed to loose some of the stress of his leg.

" how are you doing Sherlock," John asked.

"Better." Sherlock admitted, but he seemed stressed.

" What is it?" John asked after he saw Sherlock's finger's drum against his leg.

" No lead in the case about the shooter," _He meant his shooter_ , John thought." he had disappeared."

Sherlock hopped of the couch and hobbled over to his skull. He lifted it and grabbed the cigarettes. He brought out a match and lit one. _here we go again_ , John thought.

" Sherlock you don't need those. You've been doing so well," John said angrily.

" Well you try living here and getting drugged by your own friend," Sherlock said pointedly at John.

" Now Sherlock..."

" Don't even try to explain. Good bye." Sherlock interrupted.

" Sherlock," John groaned.

He tried to explain but Sherlock was already gone.

* * *

" Your a bloody jerk" John heard.

Sherlock stumbled down the stairs and staggered over to John. _He's drunk!_ John thought. Sherlock pointed something at John which made his heart stop. He cocked the gun in his hands.

"Sherlock, put it down," John warned.

" I don't think I will." Sherlock replied

And he fired.

* * *

John jumped out of the way. Dove for Sherlock and tackled him to the ground. He hit Sherlock's wrist so hard the gun fell. John lunged for the gun and pointed it at Sherlock.

"Come on," John said.

They walked up the stairs and into Sherlock's room.

" Lie down," John commanded. Sherlock did. "Now sleep."

John stayed in the room until Sherlock's breathing slowed. John was worried about him. John looked around the room and saw whiskey bottles in the corner. _So that was the secret,_ John thought. He stood up and brought the bottles to the bathroom sink. Then he poured the whiskey down the drain. There now this might end.

He had no idea how wrong he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Uh-hmm," Sherlock groaned." What happened?"

Sherlock sat up immediately, his eyes wide. He never forgot anything. Except useless knowledge like Stars and Planets. He searched his mind Palace for clues, but nothing came up. Then he hopped up grimacing at the pain in his leg. Briefly wondering about the pain in his neck, but he just concluded that he slept wrong.

He walked down the stairs causally and reviewed John from afar. His hand twitched slightly meaning he was annoyed. Eyebrows pulled together which meant Sherlock did something. And the telly on, oh yeah he did something. He entered the room slowly.

" Hello John," Sherlock greeted.

" Hello Sherlock, have a headache?" John asked.

" No, why?"

" Well you were drunk last night." Sherlock laughed, the realized he was serious." your kidding right?"

" No you had whiskey and..."

"I don't even like whiskey, John."

"Well you had an awful lot last night"

" Great God." Sherlock complained. "I've got it!"

Sherlock ran as fast as he could to his room silently cursing the cast that would be taken off tomorrow. It Felt like the weeks dragged on like he did to the darn cast. He got to his room and got the object out of his cluttered room. He brought them out to John. John busted out laughing and Sherlock mumbled expletives. And John laughed again.

" A baby monitor? Look I didn't mean..."

" Just watch." Sherlock interrupted and he played the footage.

On-screen, Sherlock, went into his rom and yelled curses. He picked up his pillow and threw it at the wall. The he took out the cigarettes, looked at them and opened them. He got one out and looked at it. Then he angrily slammed them into the bed he then turned around to face the intruder that had just came from his window. The intruder smirked and brought out a knife. " Well this will be interesting." On-screen Sherlock said. They ran towards each other. Sherlock landed a damaging blow to the kidney and the intruder pushed a needle to his neck. Sherlock immediately fell to the ground. Then the intruder set the stage. Putting whiskey bottles in the in the corner and the gun into Sherlock's hand. then he left

" Well that was interesting" John said.

" Yes indeed it was," Sherlock voice was like a whisper in the wind.

The phone wrung and Sherlock grabbed it. " Hello Lestrade." Sherlock smiled.

" Hello Sherlock, we need you here," Lestrade said urgently.

" What for?" " We found your shooter. He said to tell you Moriarty is still alive and wants your memories." The lights went off for Sherlock and he fell to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock walked in the darkness. He could hear the evil laughs of his enemy. The twisted laughs that had haunted his mind for the past 6 months. Mr. James Moriarty the dead that lived again.

" No. No!" Sherlock ran the opposite way but the laughs got louder.

" Don't you know we were made for each other!" Moriarty says. Then he's there right in front of Sherlock. The only light surrounding James.

"Noooo" Sherlock was suddenly falling. He dropped onto the roof of the hospital he hadn't been able to see for months. The Reichenbach fall as John had put it. The place where he faked his death.

" Go on jump!" Moriarty said .

And he see's himself jump. This time not faking the fall. Not shocking everyone with a fake body as his own. No this time he hit the ground at the sound of a crack as his neck breaks. Then he see's himself in the casket knowing he was dead. John comes to see him tears streaking his face. Soon after a knife plunges through John. He sees John fall with a shocked look on his face. Behind him is Moriarty. A smile plays on his lips.

The scene changes he know is in a small room just a couch and a man. To one side is a red light. Dark and evil, luminous red. And Moriarty laying on the couch. In Sherlock's most famous pose. Hands in a praying position touching his chin. His eyes closed, still smiling.

" We both know you can't die and I can't die without each other. Come lets meet each other in hell." Moriarty calls. "We can end in a non-boring way. I am not going to die without you. That not how it works. You'd be bored without me. You even kept me alive in your mind to keep from going insane. You have been waiting for me. But if I'm dead, who do you have? John? He doesn't love you. He tells you all the time. 'I'm not gay' he says. You have no one. Why not die? Hmm?"

" He does care," Sherlock says sadness filling his voice.

" Really? He didn't believe you when you said you weren't drunk. Sherlock you can't handle the truth you love him. You just don't want to admit it but you do."

" How would you know that?"

" Because I'm in your mind. I know your most inner thoughts. The ones you don't want to think. So come on. Lets go to hell." he gets up and beckons Sherlock to the red light.

" I'm dying aren't I?" Sherlock asks.

" Nasty bump on your head. It's all up to you. But you don't want to face me. You still afraid of me. You cower in your room every night after dreaming about me. You fear me. I'm your worst nightmare. So will you face me? Or take the easy way out. I prefer the easy way. What about you?" Moriarty asks.

" I need to wake up." Sherlock tells himself.

" Okay" He said in a sing-song voice.

 

A jolt goes through Sherlock. His eyes dart open. He looks around to see a ambulance. He is on the bed held down with leather straps. A doctor stands over him with metal pads over him he brings the pads down and a his body lurches forward. The doctor sedates him and he falls to a deep and, surprisingly, dreamless slumber.

He wakes in a different room. John sleeps in the corner. He has one of his fingers in a cast. There's dried blood on one of his hands. He got into a fight, Sherlock thought. He sat up and his head swam.

"What happened?" he asked himself.

" You were attacked when Lestrade called. The same man from before. He tried to kill you. In fact he did. The doctors saved you in time for no brain damage. Although you probably already have that so,"

"Shut up Mycroft. So when do I get out of here?"

" Depends on your head."

Sherlock looks down, he briefly smiles to see that his cast off. He looks at Mycroft to see the bags under his eyes. He knows this won't end.

"This is Moriarty's game he's gonna keep hitting us until we break" Sherlock says.

"Sherlock Moriarty's dead. This must be his circle. He's dead."

"He won't hurt him. No one will" Sherlock says to himself.

" Sherlock calm down," Mycroft says, but his face changed to Moriarty's. In fact now he stands with knife poised to through at John." He won't feel a thing."

"No!" Sherlock struggles against his bonds. Shaking violently. He wiggles his hand out of one of the straps and ripped the I.V out of his arm. Doctors rushed in to restrain him. Immediately sedating him, he see's John looking worryingly at him as he falls into a drug induced sleep .


End file.
